


Watching You

by taliahale



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, First Kiss, Inspired by The Walking Dead, M/M, No Dialogue, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-31
Updated: 2014-10-31
Packaged: 2018-02-22 10:34:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2504690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taliahale/pseuds/taliahale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s something strangely soothing about the efficient way Spock can cut down a walker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Watching You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jouissant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jouissant/gifts).



There’s something strangely soothing about the efficient way Spock can cut down a walker. Fluid movement of his long limbs, no extraneous grunting or posturing, followed by unfortunate sprays of blood. And he’s got this completely…placid’s probably not the right word. Stoic? Stoic maybe. He’s got this completely stoic look on his stern face.

Jim’s spent more time than he’s really willing to admit staring at that face. And the body attached to it. They've been with the same group for a while now, and they take watches and patrols together most days. The thing is, Spock isn’t exactly a talker, so who the fuck knows where he’s from or what the hell kind of name ‘Spock’ is. He really doesn’t seem like a nickname guy, but he’s been pretty firm about that being the only name Jim needs to use. It’s just that Spock doesn’t really talk or look like he would’ve fit into rural Georgia before the end of the world.

Spock is moon-pale, despite months outside in wretched summer weather. Skin like that, he should be sporting a few dozen layers of sunburn by now, but the only color he seems to get is faintly green. Jim thinks it’s the only weakness Spock ever shows, that hint of green around the gills when they’re all breathing hard after working their way through a horde. Spock’s hair is this unbearably thick mass of soft-looking, inky black that must’ve been in some sort of severely short style before shears got hard to come by. It’s grown out kinda unevenly and always covers Spock's ears and the delicate skin at the nape of his long neck. It’s all Jim can do to keep from sinking his fingers into it, seeing if it’s as silky to the touch in daylight as it is in Jim's dreams.

Mostly Jim likes looking at Spock’s face, though. His features are a touch too severe for anyone to properly call him handsome, but striking might be a good word. Jim likes it. The word, that is. And Spock. Anyway. He likes Spock’s long nose and strong jaw, the heavy slant of brows that frame his dark, intelligent eyes. It's not an overly mobile face, but that makes the micro-expressions all the more fascinating. Jim thinks sometimes that the quirk of his lips or eyebrows means that Spock is aware of the staring.

And maybe Jim should spend a little less time staring at Spock and more attention to his surroundings, because Spock’s pushing him down and away. There’s a grotesque crunch and a sort of sloshy popping sound, then the thud of a walker hitting the ground.

Spock turns around, breathing hard and flushed green, walker brains still dripping from his KA-BAR. He offers his free hand, pulling Jim up from the dirt with more ease than someone Spock’s size has any right to. Jim's lost any spare fat he may've once carried, but he's not what most people would call dainty. Spock’s eyes rove over Jim, looking for any sign of injury. His broad shoulders slump in relief when it seems that Jim’s alright.

Spock fastidiously wipes the surface of his knife on the dead walker’s pants before replacing the KA-BAR in his thigh holster. He runs his long fingers over the worn, dirty denim of his pants before shoving Jim against the nearest tree.

It startles a gasp right out of Jim, ‘cause Spock’s quick to kill a walker, but Jim’s never seen Spock lay anything but an awkwardly comforting hand on the living. Then Spock’s strong hands are cupping Jim’s face and the sober curve of that familiar mouth is pressed to his. There's an abrupt clash of teeth gentled to still-bruising pressure and—oh.

Jim maybe wasn’t the only one staring.


End file.
